Kim Kirschnick, UVA’s “Cavman,” saddles up for his 20th season.
Kim Kirschnick never aspired to mascot fame. Becoming the Mounted Cavalier, the University of Virginia’s gallant rider, who kicks off every football game racing into Scott Stadium atop his trusty steed, Sabre, wasn’t exactly a lifelong calling. But when the University needed a good horseman to take on the role of what’s affectionately dubbed the “Cavman,” the veteran polo player obliged. Twenty years on, it’s been a wild ride. As he celebrates two decades in the saddle, Kirschnick says, “it’s fun, but there’s no relaxing. I don’t want to disappoint 60,000 people.”
The fans were also on his mind in 2000, when he was asked to take on the role of Cavman. Back then, he wanted to be sure he had a horse who could handle the game-day excitement on the field in Scott Stadium.
(Photo by Jen Fariello)
“They said, ‘Hey, we think you’ve got the look. Do you want to give it a try?’” Kirschnick recalls. Never one to turn down a challenge, the home contractor figured it was worth a shot. But it wasn’t until he’d had a chance to test drive seven different horses inside the stadium—seeing which could grasp the game day excitement—that Kirschnick fully committed.
Today, he’s part of a small fraternity of mounted college mascots including Texas Tech’s Masked Rider and Oklahoma State’s Bullet Rider. But at the school Thomas Jefferson built, he represents a tradition going back generations.
The Mounted Cavalier dates back to 1947 when student Francis Bell first rode into the stadium with another, unidentified student pre-kickoff. From 1963 to 1973 and from 1989 to 2000, the University of Virginia’s club polo team provided both the rider and the horse. As Virginia Polo reported in 2019, being chosen was an honor and a way to reward an exceptional student athlete. No one can say for certain why the polo club didn’t continue the tradition, but Kirschnick’s best guess is liability. Regardless, he took on the job in 2000 becoming the longest-serving Cavman in the school’s history.
The gig didn’t always look like it does today, however. “When they first brought it back, I did it wearing white riding breeches and a white frilly shirt,” Kirschnick remembers. Unsure how to outfit their new Cavalier, the University sent Kirschnick to the theater department to find an appropriate ensemble. “It was almost like you see in Colonial Williamsburg,” he says of the blousy pirate shirt the UVA costume department gave him. “Of course my friends teased me, like ‘Did that come out of your wife’s closet?’”
Within a few years, that all changed. In light of Cavman’s growing popularity and in an effort to get his look more in line with the inflatable cartoon ‘Hoo’ mascot the school had unveiled, UVA sent in New York costume designers to refine the uniform to the Three Musketeersian-style we know today.
Of course, a more elaborate outfit also meant reacclimating his horse. You can’t just race into a loud stadium brandishing a sword and think a horse isn’t going to notice.
Picture this: It’s game day, moments before kickoff. Waves of fans are streaming into their seats, video crews are set up on the field. The band marches in, drumline thumping before splitting into an enormous V. The cheerleaders run onto the field and bam, Kirschnick gallops out past the endzone to the roar of screaming Hoos.
“I have a three-minute period to get my stirrups down, take a deep breath, and make sure I got my sword,” says Kirschnick of his final prep before taking the field. The clock ticks. Thirty seconds until showtime.
“By now, the players are coming out and they’re holding the curtain. And the biggest mistake you can make is to turn and look back because all 50 players are standing there, all in their helmets. They’re shoulder to shoulder and they’re huge. And it’s a tidal wave just dying to bust out.” Kirschnick says, amid all the chaos, he can’t hear a thing. So he relies on the signal from an assistant to tell him when to leave the tunnel.
“You’ve got to remember, horses are creatures of habit,” says Kirschnick. One small change to their normal routine—a misplaced electrical cord or the swing of an errant flag girl’s baton—and it’s game over. But Kirschnick’s been lucky. A major incident has happened only once. You might have even seen it, though he refuses to watch the replay himself.
It was 2009 and the Cavs were playing Texas Christian University. Kirschnick stormed out, per usual, but Lady Isla, his horse at the time, decided to hit the brakes at the 30-yard line. “I just kept going and did a somersault,” says Kirschnick who found himself not just akimbo on the field but, later, on ESPN’s top sports bloopers of the year. “If you’re in the top five, you get to New York. I was number six. I don’t even make the cut for it,” he says laughing. Fortunately, that’s been his only major hiccup in a side hustle he never thought he’d be doing this long, at least 160 games by his math. He keeps going because of his loyalty to the school and his love of the fans who flock to him for selfies before the games.
“If I had a nickel for every cold beer that was offered to me, I’d be a rich man,” says Kirschnick. But he always turns them down. There’s no drinking and riding in this game. He and his horse Big Daddy have a job to do, and the show must go on.
This article originally appeared in the October 2021 issue.
